Chapter 9

Jacob chuckled as he circled me, a cane in his left hand, the Colt grasped in his right. His white suit, even as a criminal on the run, shone like the moon in the lamp’s glow. “Have I prevented a bank robbery, Father?”

The mirth on Jacob’s face didn’t hide the dead calm in his eyes. The gun pointed at my head didn’t move.

“Your father isn’t all he seems, Jacob.”

Jacob’s brow rose. “Fascinating,” he said, his tone light. “As lovely as this is, I must tell you, Father, I’m leaving now. Cavalry are on the streets tonight.” He shook his head as he looked at me. “Both Philip and I have been subpoenaed to testify before the Senate. Seems the Dakota Territory wants to be a state, and they think we’re a bit rowdy to let into the Union. Philip’s little novel has caused quite a stir, and they’re considering the matter. And somehow they believe I might not be as guilty as first thought.” His eyes narrowed and a grin crossed his lips.

Mr. Wilkes waved a hand as if dismissing the Senate issue and sounded worried as he asked, “Is it done?”

Without taking his eyes off me, Jacob nodded once. “But it wasn’t in the house.”

“Philip,” Mr. Wilkes said as he took his hands off the desk and stepped close to me. “A clear proposition. Anna back, for a little piece of paper you have in your possession. A letter.”

The room swirled around me as red filled my vision, and if it weren’t for a gun pointed at my temple, I would pull my revolver. My voice was a whisper. “What have you done?”

“Jeb and his men killed them all.” Jacob’s voice almost held regret. “Everyone at her house is dead. Anna, however, is alive.”

“Jeb’s in prison.” I struggled to remain standing. The girls . . . Becky, Rachel, Beth, Mrs. Johnston. “Jacob, what have you done?”

Mr. Wilkes stood directly in front of me while Jacob pressed the revolver against my ear. The older man’s breath was tainted with sweet whiskey. “If you want her back alive, then the map.”

“You knew my father.”

“Henry wasn’t about to share his secrets with the likes of me.” Mr. Wilkes thrust his jaw out. “I paid for that map. I paid for it! Bought it from the monk. Paid a dear price. Then your father ran from me.”

So transformed was the man, I would have taken a step back had it not been for the gun pressing on my ear.

His eyes flashed lightning. Where was the banker? Who was this new man?

“Jeb killed Marshal Stone.” Jacob’s smooth voice ripped at my heart.

“Marshal Stone?” My throat closed. Please be lies. “And with cavalry in the city?”

“Father, let me kill him.”

Mr. Wilkes shook his head. “I need the map.”

“After, then. I’ll kill him when you have it.”

I winced. “What did I do to you, Jacob? Why do you hate me so much?”

Jacob’s breath seemed to sizzle in my ear as he spoke. “I loathe you. I’ve wanted you dead since the day I came to this God-forsaken territory. You think you’re someone, believe you’re important. But you’re nothing. Do you hear me? Nothing! You’re vile, and I will have your heart on a plate.”

I didn’t respond, but the waves of hatred washed from him like lava pouring from a volcano.

Mr. Wilkes chuckled. “We know he has the map.” He moved close enough to step on my toe. “I’m not entirely sure I need him to tell us.”

Jacob pulled the gun back, but from the corner of my eye I saw he kept it leveled at my head. “You know where it is?”

Mr. Wilkes studied my face. I stared into his eyes. Finally he said, “Philip knows of the map. His house burned, so he won’t trust it in the barn.” He rubbed his jaw. “The map is with someone in his confidences. Not someone he cares for but trusts. Scott Ladd has the map.”

“Jeb said Scott’s body wasn’t among those at the Johnston house.” Jacob adjusted his grip. “What if he gave it to Anna?”

Mr. Wilkes took a deep breath through his nose. “No. Anna’s just a woman. She wouldn’t know what to do with the map even if Philip did tell her. You searched her? Well, then no, she doesn’t have it. We’ll search Scott’s home before we leave, and if it’s not there we’ll find him.”

Jacob’s laugh was genuine. “How hard can it be to find his glowing red hair? It’s a constant sunrise.”

My desire to kill him grew even stronger. First for their offense to Anna’s intelligence. And I’d always liked Scott’s red hair. The insult was small, but the ire made my heart race. I wasn’t fast enough to beat Jacob. In front of me, maybe. Not to the side. He had the drop on me.

Mr. Wilkes considered me a moment longer, his thumb playing against his forefinger. He rubbed his chin, looked at my chest for a moment, and turned away. “Jacob,” he said over his shoulder. “Kill him.”

Without hesitating, Jacob squared his shoulders and tilted his head a fraction.

His finger tugged on the trigger.

Behind me, I heard the hammer click on a shotgun.

Jacob didn’t fire. Instead he turned to look.

I twisted to see a massive form behind me with a shotgun.

Ryan.

Jacob must have known Ryan would fire, because instead of pulling the trigger he lurched back, away from the view of the door.

Both barrels blasted in the confines of the bank’s office. Tiny balls ripped through space where Jacob had been a second before.

I spun away and dropped to a knee, reaching for my revolver.

Jacob dove behind a rocker, and as I lifted my gun he slipped through a waist-high door in the wall.

A loud crash filled the room and I spun to where Mr. Wilkes had been. The window was shattered, and he was gone.

“Ryan! Go after Mr. Wilkes!” As I dashed toward the short door, I felt his heavy bulk on the planks as he passed behind me.

About four inches taller than Jacob, ducking into the dark passageway was far more difficult. Papers in large, messy stacks lay on either side.

A few feet away, another small door stood open. I cautiously stepped into the next room, gun ready.

A single lamp on the center desk lit the empty office. I started for the open door—Jacob must be stopped at all costs. But what the light reflected made me pause.

Over the mantel hung a full-length portrait of Anna. She wore a revealing dress of blue, the wind blowing back her hair and tugging at the flaps of her skirt. While the representations of her blue eyes and generous cheeks and dark hair were accurate, I didn’t remember Anna’s body being so sumptuous.

Did Anna know he had it commissioned? The painting must have cost a fortune.

Below were another dozen paintings and photographs of women. I took a step closer.

Anna was in every one.

Some paintings were crude, as if a child had done them, as if Jacob had attempted using a brush. Others were detailed, no doubt done by an artist. I counted six photographs, most blurry, and Anna never looked at the camera. In fact, she was walking on the street in most.

On his desk was a faded blue bonnet. Anna’s.

With my revolver in hand, I cross the room and glanced behind the desk. A chest lay open. With my left hand I shifted the lamp so I could peer inside. Women’s clothing.

With my boot, I shifted the dress. Anna’s.

Under the dress were several intimate pieces of clothing. With a growl, I kicked over the chest and stormed from the office.

I stopped again. Hanging by the door was a necklace with bear claws. The same necklace Running Deer had given me.

I ripped the sacred piece from the wall and slung it over my neck, promising never to remove it again.

What kind of monster was Jacob?

Ignoring Ryan in the office and Mr. Wilkes who was surely dead from his fall from the second story, I charged through the darkness and down the stairs.

The door was open. I sprinted through, gun ready for the challenge from Jacob Wilkes.

Instead the kerosene lamps shimmered off the brass buttons of several dozen cavalry marching down Main Street. They lifted their rifles and pointed at me.

“Halt! Throw down the gun,” an officer barked.

“There’s no time for this—”

A rifle shot reverberated through the business fronts as a bullet smacked the stone above my head. As I dropped my gun and ducked, I shouted, “You’re shooting in town? You’re shooting against rock? Idiot!”

As soldiers fanned out, I lifted my arms and stepped toward them. My boots crunched broken glass. “There’s no time! You fools, Jacob’s escaping!”

“Running down the street with a revolver pointed at cavalry’s not on my list of innocent activities, me boy.” The officer’s shadowed face was nearly invisible as he lowered his rifle. His Irish accent cut through the night. “Now, you’ll be explaining yourself in a moment as soon as the captain arrives.”

“Didn’t you see Mr. Wilkes fall from the window?” I pointed up.

“Another reason you’re detained.”

I gripped both sides of my hat, looking over the ground where Mr. Wilkes should be lying. “Did you take his body?”

“He marched away to the doctor, laddie. Now, enough—”

The soldiers spun toward the door, rifles lifted. Ryan stepped out. “You better let Philip Anderson go,” he said in his deep, guttural voice. His shotgun was pointed at the officer’s head.

This was getting us nowhere. “Ryan, it’s okay. Lower your gun.” The last thing I wanted was a conversation with Rachel about Ryan’s death.

As he complied, a handful of soldiers jumped onto the boardwalk and took our weapons.

Rough hands grasped my arms and tugged me to the center of the road. “You’ve put us through a great deal of trouble tonight, boyo.”

“Trouble?” I tried to pull away. “Let go. I’m not going anywhere. I must speak with Captain Smith.” How could Jacob pull off the kidnapping with so many cavalry in town? Rays of hope that he lied pushed my impatience to new heights. “I’m leaving. Now. Shoot me or let me go.”

“Capt’n will be here soon enough. He’s checking on a disturbance on the east side of town.”

Anna’s side of town. A ringing burst in my ears. “What disturbance?”

He didn’t answer, and this time I managed to wrench from their grasp. “What disturbance?”

“Form up!” A sharp voice echoed between the buildings despite the wide street. “Columns of two.”

The thin figure of Captain Smith was a welcome sight. Even in the faded kerosene lamplight, his white pencil mustache was the first noticeable trait of the gentleman soldier.

“Capt’n.” The Irish sergeant kept a weapon leveled at me. “We’ve got him.”

“Columns of two!” Captain Smith barked as he approached, pointing at the end of the forming column.

The officer hesitated, and I wondered if he would ignore orders. Instead he straightened and lowered his rifle. He saluted and jogged down the line.

Captain Smith turned to me, and the look in his dark eyes made my soul cry in anguish.

I nearly grabbed the lapels on his uniform. “What happened?”

He swept off his cavalry Stetson and fiddled with the golden cord. “Interviewed a few locals. Seems a band attacked the Johnston house. Made off with her.”

My mind went blank as my emotions turned cold. I started for her home.

Captain Smith grasped my arm. “Wait a moment, Philip. March with us. We’re returning to the house.”

“Why?”

“They may still be here.” He let go. “Or they may have marksmen. You’re someone I need to protect.”

“No, Anna’s someone you need to protect.” I looked toward the boardwalk. “Where’s my gun? Give me my gun!” This wasn’t happening.

Dust filled the air as soldiers ran past, nearly stretched in a perfect line.

“My gun! Give it to me.” My mind held one image. The death of Jacob. I would hunt him down and save Anna.

A large man stood in front of me. What was his name? He held out my gun belt.

Ryan. “Thanks.” I snatched the leather from him and strapped it on in a practiced motion. “Let’s go.”

Captain Smith kept pace and called, “Lieutenant, follow with the men.” He pointed toward the bank’s broken window as we jogged. “What happened?”

“Jacob got the drop on me.” I lifted a thumb to Ryan on my left, his breath already coming in gasps. “He saved me.” It reminded me of something Ryan had said, and I slowed, suddenly unsure. “They told me Marshal Stone was dead.”

Ryan nodded, wiping his wet lips. “Got him in the heart. Jeb. That’s why he went in jail, I think. Why he wanted caught. Cause he had a lock pick.” He pointed under his tongue. “Here.”

“If Jeb had the drop on you, how’d you escape?” I growled, picking up speed again.

He turned so I could see the back of his head. A knot the size of my fist was a shadow in the dim light. “Saw him pull the pick out of his mouth. But when I started to get the marshal there was an iron bar right there when I woke up.”

I wanted to blame him for letting Jeb get away, but the mound on his head reminded me of the size of the cursed Devil’s Tower.

We stormed past shops—once familiar in the light, now stark and strange in the darkness. Recognizable in the calm of my life, they now mocked me as I neared Anna’s house. My gut told me what I found there would change my life. I would never view this lane the same.

We passed the last kerosene lamp, and at the end of the city street the Johnston house stood forlorn, a lonely shadow against the stars. Every window glowed with candlelight.

A dozen men moved in the front yard, lamps held high. The stone building across the way, windows all broken, was lit as well.

I sprinted to the front gate, leapt the white fence, and passed several soldiers looking over the yard. Just inside, I yelled, “Anna!”

I heard a cry to my left, the parlor. “Anna?”

Beside the cold fire grate, Mr. Johnston lay in his chair. Three men in blue leaned over him, one with scissors cutting his pant leg. A wicked gash in his upper thigh gushed blood. His left sleeve had already been stripped away, blood oozing from his biceps.

“You could be a little gentler!” Mr. Johnston yelled.

I wanted to turn and vomit but instead forced my legs to stop at his side. Normally in absolute control, the man’s wounds tore at his soul. “Anna?” I managed. “The girls?” I pictured a slaughter upstairs.

“Took them.” He released the grip on his arm and held out a bloody hand. “Philip, find them. Find my girls.” He fell back.

I stared at him, hand on my Smith and Wesson. I took off my hat with my left and held it to my head. This was my fault. “I’ll find them. Or die trying.”

He let out a deep breath, a rattle from his lungs escaping, and he closed his eyes. “Thank you, Philip.”

I glanced at the soldier I guessed was the company’s surgeon and nodded toward the leg.

“It’ll cost him a leg,” he said. “Shattered bone. We don’t take chances with gangrene.”

I needed to find the doctor for confirmation. Where was Scott? Was Leroy okay? Questions needed answered before riding for Anna. “I’ve got to go.”

I stormed up the stairs and glanced through the bedrooms. The Dakota Territory was known for its tornados, and one must have visited the bedrooms. Papers were flung across the plank floor, beds were turned over, dressers ripped apart, mirrors shattered, and porcelain broken.

A soldier was working in the hallway, clearing debris.

One step into Anna’s room, and I sensed her presence was but a vapor. I held out a hand, trying to catch her soul as if she were a ghost. Instead I felt my heart rip into pieces. How could I let this happen? How could I be so stupid?

I’d given her the map. And they hadn’t found it. Was it here?

My gut told me she had the map on her person. She was in far more danger than just a kidnapping.

I took another step and my foot crunched on glass and wood. Below my boot was a broken photograph. I reached down and picked up the fresh picture, thinking back to when it was taken. I’d been busy, and she pleaded for a photo of the both of us—had made an appointment, even. I stood behind the park bench in a fake setting, leaving my gun and duster on. Anna’s dress was . . . I didn’t remember the color. Dark, according to the picture. My hand was on her shoulder, and she smiled. I was serious.

I pocketed the memory of the only woman I’d ever loved, the lone person on this massive Earth I knew my compass pointed toward, and lit out to make good my promises. I repeated it to myself as I charged into the night.

Find Anna or die trying.